SEVEN

TWO HOURS EARLIER

Jane poked her head out of the ladies’ bathroom and looked to her left and right only to find the corridor empty with only the sound of music flowing through the passageway. Where had that tall man with his perfectly styled crop gone? She needed to clean off the stain from his shirt.

Sheepishly she stepped out and tugged her blouse. She’d used the hand dryer in the bathroom to air dry it but unfortunately for her, her black bra was still damp and smelt of breast milk.

“Oh, Jane! There you are!” Vanessa called out as she ran over to Jane from around the corridor in her impossibly tight bodycon dress.

“Madam Dominique is looking for you!” she said and promptly grabbed Jane’s hand, yanking her along.

“We’re short on staff at the VIP floor so you need to head over asap.”

“Oh…” Jane was flaggerbested. “My bra’s wet from the milk –“ she stammered, lowering her chin to her chest in embarrassment.

Vanessa laughed and waved her off, “Oh that…don’t worry. Come” And with that, the brunette dragged a very confused Jane back into the bathroom and gave Jane her bra.

“The guys like it when my nipples poke through the fabric anyway,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “Now chop chop, come along!”

Jane tried to keep up but failed miserably. The stiletto heels were not meant for walking, they were meant for murder. She could feel the back of the stiletto slicing into her Achilles' tendons with every painful step that she took but she trudged on anyway, knowing how important it was to please the madame. Madame Dominique had promised her an advance of twenty grand and a one year contract if she performed well tonight.

But as she finally stepped out of the corridor, Jane was greeted by a sea of dancers on the dance floor. They would have to cross the masses of gyrating bodies just to go to the VIP section.

I can do this, she willed herself and sucked in her breath as she tried to wade through the crowd, many of whom were headbanging to the ear-splitting techno music played by a DJ at the high end of the bar.  The strobe lights above her were rigged to follow the music and blinked on and off, alternating between hues of purple, yellow and pink and her nose was assaulted by an overabundance of perfumes, bodyspray and stale sweat.

“HEY SEXAAAY! DANCE WITH MEEEeeee!” a drunk blonde screamed into her ear and reached out to grope her butt before falling into the arms of another. Jane grimaced and quickened her pace to follow Vanessa’s bobbing head through the crowd to finally reach a golden spiral staircase. Here, she exhaled, relieved to be free from the suffocating masses. The loud music was giving her a headache and she had to wonder if the VIP room would be any better.

It wasn’t. Two hours later found Jane balancing two jugs of beers, a tray full of Mojitos and a horrible gash at the back of her heels. They were starting to bleed but she had neither the time nor the privilege to sit down and give her dainty feet a much needed rest.

“Jane, send the drinks to Mr Mason’s room!” Madame Dominique had ordered over the counter’s intercom earlier.

Who and where Mr Mason was, remained a mystery to Jane but before she could even ask, the line was cut and she was left to her own defences. So here she was, gingerly balancing the drinks as she tried to make sense of the direction to a Mr Mason’s room.

The VIP floor was a maze of endless corridors that led to individual rooms, most of which had their doors closed. She could hear groaning and moaning coming from the Velvet Room and Jane could only imagine what was going on behind those walls. Yes, each room had a specific name based on the colour of their doors and there were altogether ten of them; two for each secluded corridor. She figured she would just have to knock on every one of them to find the mysterious Mr Mason.  

Just as she rounded one particular corridor, a menacing shout rang out from the White Room.

“Out!”

She flinched at the voice, it was intimidatingly loud, as if the Hulk himself were in that room.  Then out dashed one of the hostesses with tears and mascara running down her cheeks.

“Hey, you okay? What happened?” she asked out of concern. Jane’s heart sank at the sight of the pitiful hostess who sobbed nonstop.

“Did he hurt you?” she pressed on as her eyebrows knitted together in suspicion.

The hostess shook her head furiously, pulling at Jane’s towel which hung precariously from the clear plastic tray and used it to dab her eyes.

“No..no..it’s fine. Mr Winters didn’t like me is all…but why?” she bawled and blew her nose into the towel, her snot sticking to the cloth like glue. “I had on my sexiest dress!”

Before Jane could find words of solace for the distressed hostess, a Humpty Dumpty looking man with a god complex poked his head out of the Black Room and raised his voice at the two women, “What’s all the ruckus?! Oh, you! Come! You’re holding up my drinks! I want my Mojitos now!”

Jane’s eyes went to the burly man and quickly flew into an apology, “I’m so sorry Mr Mason!”

“Just come in and set the drinks down! I need to take a leak!” Mr Mason ordered and stormed to a nearby bathroom. Jane gave the hostess an apologetic smile and immediately hurried into the Black Room.

The room was spacious with a very large plush lounge chair that could easily seat three adults, a round diamond-encrusted table and a flatscreen TV hooked onto the cushioned wall. The lights were switched off with only the haunting light from the TV illuminating the room.

But no sooner did Jane place the tray on the table did the man come back in and close the door behind him. The act caught her by surprise so much so that she almost spilt the drinks.

“You new here?” Mr Mason asked leeringly, his eyes roaming every inch of her body.

“Uh, yes,” Jane stammered and quickly set the drinks down on the table. The bra Vanessa lent her did nothing to hide her cleavage. By now, Mr Mason had eased himself onto the plush black chair and from where he sat with his chubby legs sprawled out, he would have a first-class view of her assets if she were not careful.

And as soon as she set the last glass onto the tabletop, the man lunged forward and roughly grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her towards him.

“Hey!” Jane called out in surprise as she fell onto his lap. Her pulse quickened to an alarming rate as she struggled to get up only to have him clamp onto her shoulder with his hairy hand.

“Don’t you want a tip sweetheart?” he asked hoarsely and he reached for his back pocket with his free hand. “You girls like it when I slide it between your titties,” he snickered as his hand continued to search for his wallet.

Jane squirmed under the weight of the man’s hand not liking where this was leading.

“Mr Mason, It’s fine, really. Please let me go.” Why was her voice quaking?

Mr Mason ignored her and continued searching for his wallet but a sudden shift came and in a split second, his demeanour turned deadly. His snickerings turned into sneers and his pungent breath hit her face as he accused her of thievery, “Did you steal from me?”

Two hairy hands immobilized her this time, pushing her further down and sinking her into his lap.

What’s he talking about? Jane was confused as she was terrified. Undiluted fear coursed through her veins and she struggled out of his grasp but to no avail. The man was just too strong.

“Mr Mason, sir…there must be some confusion…I didn’t take anything from you,” she stammered. She pushed at his chest and kicked at the carpet with her heels, desperately trying to put a distance between them.

“Liar!” Mr Mason hissed, his face flushed red with rage and he spewed an entire dictionary of crude sailor’s words as he shook her like a ragged doll, his nails digging into her skin. “Thieves should be taught a lesson, c’mere girl. Let me get a good feel of you.”

No…please... The man’s touch likened to maggots crawling on her skin and the faceless man from her nightmares suddenly flashed before her eyes. She shook her head furiously, tears escaped her eyes and rolled down her face in torrents.

“No Mr Mason, please, I didn’t do it. Let me go. We can check the bathroom…” she pleaded.

“Shut up bitch!” a hand flew across her face with the might of Hercules, sending Jane tumbling down onto the carpeted floor. Apparently, Mr Mason did not appreciate being corrected.

She could feel a copper tinge in her mouth, the slap made her gums bleed.

Oh, God. This was bad. This was very bad. Her body was screaming for her to run and yet, she could not move. Her legs had betrayed her and became jelly-o.

“You do NOT talk back to me, whore.”

He stood, towering above her and even in the semi-darkened room, Jane could see the veins on his neck popping up. The man was a barbarian, he crouched on one knee and grabbed her roughly by the blouse. His eyes were drunk with fire and lust.

“Mr Mason, please…let me go,” Jane whimpered, trying to pry his hand away even as her body started to shake violently on the floor.

“You’re gonna pay thief,” he hissed and savagely ripped a panicked Jane’s blouse. The sheer fabric tore like a piece of paper and cascaded down her shoulders. That was when Jane lost it.

She did not know where the strength came from but the next thing she knew, she screamed, “LET GO OF ME!” and head-butted the man on the forehead, causing him to stumble backwards.

With all her strength she climbed onto her wobbly feet, made a beeline for the door, forced it open and charged out of the hell hole only to run crashing into the devil’s arms once more.

It was Daniel Winters.  

“Hello, you still owe me a shirt.”